


A Night on the Town

by A_Queer_In_Spaceland



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Use, Inappropriate Use of Queen, Minimus and Rodimus being friends - or gay if you wanna read it like that, Swerve being friendly, There's not enough cywhirlgate so I had to write my own, it's not secrect they're just private
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 08:17:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17597669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Queer_In_Spaceland/pseuds/A_Queer_In_Spaceland
Summary: The Lost Light hits up Hedonia on their last hurrah trip and Cyclonus spends the night holding up the wall -watching.A Cywhirlgate drabble, probably the first of many.





	A Night on the Town

“Good thing you aren’t the jealous type eh Cyclonus?”

Swerve’s interjection almost went unnoticed over the noise of the Hedonian nightclub. Their return visit to the mechanical-friendly planet on a last hurrah tour was exceptionally different from the first- but Cyclonus haunting the corner had remained the same. He didn’t need to look to know what Swerve was referring to.

In the middle of the dancefloor, packed tight in-between familiar and foreign swaying bodies was the mech Cyclonus had alredy been watching. Tailgate, bright and laughing entwined with the wrought iron form of Whirl. They were dancing, close together as couples do. Purple and blue lights cast playful shadows along their frames. Cyclonus’s memory files pinged softly, offering up a memory that quickly stole his attention.

-A dark room; kept that way to soothe the volatile creature now mewling so pathetically under violet talons. A flash of blue from a lazily dimmed visor. The click of circular claws snapping shut with a soft gasp. Silver hands curled around silver horns; the sensation of tension tugging on them for leverage as his chemoreceptors registered a heady tang and blue claws traced delicately over his back before gripping harder and then a swelling pressure-

“Cyclonus?”

It was improper to dwell on night past in current company, although when he caught a mischievous flash in from Whirl’s direction Cyclonus found he didn’t care much.

“Hm, indeed,” If there was a wicked edge to the slant of Cyclonus’s mouth Swerve wasn’t able to detect it, “excuse me.”

Cyclonus moved through the crowd like wind through densely packed towers. The bar staff were welcoming and moments later a trio of drinks -one with a handle, the other a curly straw and the third in an elegant crystal glass- were carefully arranged in Cyclonus’s taloned hands.

Tailgate bounded, Whirl’s claw held firmly in his silver hands up to a recently vacated table between the dancefloor and bar.

“Aw look, Hornhead got us refreshments.”

Vivid blue energon rolled and backtracked inside a bright yellow straw. Tailgate beamed up at Cyclonus from the stool Whirl had carted him onto.

“Thanks Cy!”

Cyclonus’s lips twitched up.

“Don’t be too cute Legs, he’ll ruin his image smiling that much.”

The glare the ancient swordsmech levelled at Whirl was soft at the edges and lacked any actual bite.

It was then the reason this table with it’s three tall barstools had been abandoned in the first place made itself apparent. They had front row seats to the spectacle about to unfold. Karaoke.

Rodimus Prime clambered to the stage -utterly sloshed but still valiantly upright- a microphone dangling from his left hand and Minimus Ambus held close with his right. Minimus himself looked half as overcharged as Rodimus, which was still likely bordering on fatal consumption, and held a similar microphone more firmly in his grasp. They swayed as they stood there, but they swayed together.

“What do you think-” Tailgate begun. The song they’d chosen appeared to have no musical opening, instead jumping straight to the lyrics that were enthusiastically yowled by Rodimus, with Minimus’s smooth baritone offering support.

“-I just can get no relief! Lord, Somebody!”

“Somebody!”

“oooh Somebody!”

“Can anybody fine meeee somebody to looove?”

They leaned together, and had Whirl eyebrows Cyclonus was sure they’d be shooting through the roof. Tailgate’s straw lolled from his mouth and his drink lay forgotten.

Rodimus turned and sung directly to Minimus’s swaying form, taking the backup vocals, “He works hard!”

“Everyday!” Minimus pipes in.

They continue like that for the full, Cyclonus checks his chronometer, four minutes and fifty-five seconds of the song. Cyclonus claps politely afterwards.

“The minstrels in Textrahex sung like he does,” He comments.

“What? Smashed beyond care?”

Cyclonus can’t help the amusement that suffuses his field.

“On occasion.”

Whirl snorts and Tailgate’s field lights up technicolour, loud enough to be felt up on the stage directly in front of their table.

“Mags, mags look Tailgate is glowing,”

If Rodimus was attempting subtly as his hushed voice suggested, it was utterly undermined by the microphones. Tailgate’s cheeks flushed blue. Cyclonus felt Whirl’s field mirror his own from where it gently entangled between them.

**Author's Note:**

> Watch This Space lmao, I love these three and their dynamic


End file.
